So, my phone now speaks better Spanish than I do: I popped in a Mexican SIM card, and all the menus switched over: mensajes, adreses, you name it. Why can’t I do that with my brain?
I contemplate this from my little beachfront prison where I’m not speaking Spanish at all: I’ve been in writing lockdown here in Cancun for these last few days. I’ve always imagined doing this–a little beach time, a lot of writing–but it never works out. I’ve told this plan to people I know in Puerto Morelos so many times–and not followed through–that it’s a little embarrassing. Oh well–if I were in PM, I’d be eating my fool head off all day long and never getting anything done. Through the miracle of Hotwire, I am staying in a relatively posh hotel that is populated with so many large, sunburnt Americans that I really am not tempted to spend all day by the pool. And if I want to eat, I have to walk at least a kilometer. (Mmm–good tortas yesterday, though, overlooking the lagoon! Spongy lunchmeat never tasted so good, slathered with mayo and habanero salsa!)
Yesterday I did venture out for a morning swim (all you Cancun haters: you clearly have never been in the water–it’s unreal, and shark-free!), then retreated to my shady hotel room for the rest of the day. The maids must think I’m violently ill or on a drug binge, as I don’t even let them in to tidy up or replace the towels.
I went out at night to see a movie–the first time I’ve gone to the movies in Mexico, I realized, because I usually don’t have the time. I like to go to movies everywhere, just to see what you can get at the snack bar–here, nothing special, but at least popcorn is called palomitas (“little doves”). I saw a film called Stellet Licht, made by a Mexican director but set in a Mennonite community in north Mexico, in Chihuahua. After I got over the idea that maybe I could understand the Plautdietsch, which sounds enough like Dutch to fool me, I managed with just the Spanish subtitles OK. It helped that those Mennonites are a terse bunch. There were 10-minute stretches where no one said anything, so I had plenty of time mull over the incredibly basic sentence I’d just read at the bottom of the screen, and finally go “Ohhhh.” There were only about 12 people in the theatre: me and a huge whole family, including great-aunts and grandmas. When they left, they were all laughing because most of them had just fallen asleep.
What else has happened? I’ve fully recovered from my little “moment” in Merida. B got off OK and is home in ABQ now. I’ve seen a few more clowns. They’re just a regular part of the street fabric here, like the raving drunk guy and the impossibly small 90-year-old woman and the guy walking by with mangos on a tray balanced on his head. No one bats an eye. The buses are still filled with roving accordion and guitar players.
My last night in Merida, I ran out to check a few last-minute things. I was hightailing it back to the hotel when a guy in a doorway said hello to me. Then he asked if I spoke English. I slowed down my walk and reluctantly said yes. Next thing I know, he’s asking me to translate a poem he’s trying to read, about a Japanese guy giving an anti-nuclear speech in 1957. I have to explain that yes, it says the flowers are smiling, and that’s weird, but it’s poetry, right? After 10 excruciating moments, and me gesticulating more than talking, he lets me go. I think I believe him about only needing help with the first two stanzas.
This morning I walked up the beach to this little coffee place attached to a mall (everything’s attached to a mall here). I vaguely remembered having a nice breakfast there in November. Halfway into my latte and my obligatory cream-cheese-filled pan dulce, my waiter says, “You were here before, weren’t you?” Either they get no customers, or I was much chattier then than I recall. He remembered my whole story–guidebook-writing, etc. Extremely sweet. Especially since he didn’t charge me for my pastries in the end. Aw. Later, walking down the beach and replaying the conversation we’d had in Spanish, I realized I’d answered half his comments/questions wrong. Oh, _he_ would like to speak more languages! Whaddya know–it’s not all about me.
So I’ll be sad to leave, especially as this marks the beginning of a long lull in the update cycle for the Mexico books. I won’t have reason to come back here until late 2009, and by then my cookbook project with Tamara (which is a go, I have not mentioned!) will be out, and who knows what that will bring?